Frail Wings
by Hawkflight7
Summary: A trapped little lion in a gilded cage. A toy, nothing more, nothing less. Sequel to Suspending Consciousness.
1. Prologue

**Frail Wings - Prologue**

**Summary: A trapped little lion in a gilded cage. A toy, nothing more, nothing less. Sequel to Suspending Consciousness**

**The long-awaited sequel to Suspending Consciousness and part three of the Mintea Ridicati series is here. Warning for extreme violence. Enjoy! ^.^**

The birds had stopped singing minutes ago. A dead silence falling over the forest except for a single pair of boots hitting the floor, cracking twigs and leaves beneath them, kicking up water when the owner walked through a small creek.

Droplets hit the moss clinging to nearby stones but it was near impossible to tell where exactly they had landed. It was too dark to see and the man didn't dare cast a lumos spell in fear of being seen. Especially after the birds went silent. It bothered him greatly. Questions flew through his mind as he continued on, eyes flickering from one shadow to the next.

Why had they gone silent? Was it just because the sun was down and they only sung when it was up? Or was it for another reason entirely?

There could be a wolf in the shadows or another animal predator that had startled the birds but so far he hadn't seen anything. Nothing to suggest there was anything else out here with him. Though he had stopped seeing rabbits and similar small creatures just a few minutes before the birds stopped. He supposed they had just gone and hid in their tunnels underground. He wished he had an underground tunnel to run to when night fell as well.

It was nerve-wracking, wandering through here with no real destination. The last time he had gone into a place even somewhat familiar curses had been flung and he had barely escaped with his life. Which left him in places like this. The middle of bloody nowhere. Yet, even now, there was a prickling at his back.

Whenever he turned to look in the area it seemed to be coming from he found nothing there. He had to just be getting paranoid, really. There was no other explanation for why he felt like he was being watched but there was nothing watching him.

The birds though, he reminded himself. The rabbits, the deer, all the non-magical creatures had cleared out. He couldn't hear a single one in his patch of forest. If there was really nothing there, why had they gone?

Because you're here. Yes, that made sense. Animals didn't like muggles or wizards they hid from both. The smaller ones weren't the best at it though, which would explain why he had only seen one doe during his whole trek through this forest. The smaller creatures were fast though and usually dealt with muggles, so perhaps that made them braver. Muggles couldn't fling a spell at one, paralyze it then cook it for stew. He had done that once. No stew included. Just cooked animal meat. It had tasted foul in his mouth. Just like the air now.

He stopped, sniffing at the air. That wasn't just foul that was... rotting flesh. He hurridly pushed through a bush from where the scent was coming from stopping almost immediately in his tracks.

A doe. One that looked remarkably similar to the one he had seen, with the same white dot of fur on it's brow. It was sprawled out on the ground, stomach cut open, intestines scattered along the grass. The cut had been made with precision, one swift move. Not an animal then. A hunter.

He took a step back, the crack of the twig echoed in the clearing and he held his breath, because this couldn't be happening. Whoever had done this couldn't still be here. They couldn't have just killed the creature then left it to rot. Surely they would have taken the hide, the meat inside, the fat, the bones even. It was just on the ground, a few maggots already on the edge of the meal.

This could _not_ be happening. He was in some random forest. No one should have been able to know where he was. They couldn't-

"You're shaking Karkaroff."

He wasted no time in turning and running aimlessly through the forest that was no longer quiet. Leaves cracked beneath two pairs of feet, stones kicked aside and into the bushes and trunks of trees. His breath was coming fast, echoing in his ears. The man's laughter from behind him was getting closer.

"Keep running. That's all you do. All you're good for," the voice mocked and he desperately pushed harder against the ground to speed up. _This couldn't be happening._ "Saving your own hide, not a care in the world for anyone else-" a curse hit a tree to his right, exploding in flames and he leapt to the side, tripping over an extended root that his pursuer must have known was there even in the darkness. He must have planned it.

He hit the ground face first, but he could still hear that the footsteps had slowed, that they were close, no more than a few feet away. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been sent to Azkaban," the hiss was low, and with air now returning to his lungs he moved to get back on his feet. He couldn't die like this. "Stay down!" An enraged scream cut through the air just before the force of some spell hit him square in the back, sending him back to the forest floor, dirt stinging his nose and getting caught between his teeth. "You turned me over like a coward. You ran like a coward. Now you're going to die like a coward."

There was a particular sound that caught his ears then. One he hadn't heard in a long time. A blade being removed from a sheath. His eyes widened, breath coming faster. "I-"

His side flared up in pain when a kick was delivered to his ribs. A series of cracks sounded in the air and he knew a few had been broken by the force. By Merlin, he could _feel_ it. A deep sharp pain and he swore one of the bones must be peircing through his insides. "I didn't tell you that you could speak. Perhaps if you had gone to Our Lord he would have given you instant death, or at the very least punished and then imperiod you so you wouldn't be completely useless. As it is, I found you, and there will be no quick death for you, _traitor_."

With that last word he felt spit land on his cheek and he shut his eyes. Why did it have to be Barty that found him? Any other Death Eater he was sure would have happily turned the killing curse on him by now. He wasn't sure if he regretted giving his name to the Ministry or being born right then when the first crucio hit him.

His screams filled the air, body twisting on itself as if that would help to quell the pain. The feel as if a thousand kinves was twisting into his skin. It was the worst feeling he had ever-"Wait!" he yelled the moment he saw the flash of metal. Even so the knife dove down, buried into his arm by the hilt, going clean through to the other side. He raged inside wishing he still had his wand on him, that he could have a moment of clarity to throw a spell of his own at this madman.

The blade slipped out and he screamed louder even as he felt blood begin to rush from the wound. The broken ribs digging into him from the inside. It hurt like hell. "You came to kill me didn't you? Then just kill me!" he screamed. Going though this had never been part of his decision when he asked to meet with the Wizengamot and give the names of Death Eaters he knew. He had never signed up for _this_.

"Begging already? We aren't even at the hour mark Karkaroff. I'm _very_ disappointed in you."

That mocking tone just made him want to yell again, but then he felt the crucio intensify and screamed even louder. That blade slipped into his other arm, pinning it to the ground. A boot descended on the other arm, pressing the open wound into the ground, dirt, leaves, twigs, small stones, it all pushed into his wound and he struggled to move away from the searing pain. "Stop!"

"Begging for your life now?" The boot twisted along his arm and he yelled again. "_Pathetic_. You know I'm not going to give it to you so there's no sense in asking for me to stop."

"I won't run away again!" he cried, desperate as pain lanced up his arm. "I swear! I"ll do everything in my power for the Dark Lord! Let me go and I'll help the cause freely!"

"Right, because everyone knows how well that went the last time." For a moment the boot wasn't pressing against his arm any longer and he felt relief. Then it connected with his elbow and his scream must have filled the whole forest for miles. He didn't want to look but he had caught a glimpse and knew for a fact that his arm was broken from the way the bone jutted out from the skin. From the way it felt, along with the cruciatus curse that hadn't once been lifted since this had all started.

Leaves crunched around him, the blade removed from his arm, and then another kick was delivered to his side, with a groan he was flipped onto his back and he stared up in disdain at the Death Eater infront of him. The knife gleamed red as he turned it in his hands so it caught the moonlight that managed to cut through the branches. "No, please."

"_Please?_" he laughed, but it sounded hollow. "_Please mother, don't let them send me to Azkaban! I didn't do it! He's lying! Karkaroff is lying just to get out from that prison! Believe me mum! Please mother! I didn't do it! I swear I was never there! Mummy!_" the high-pitched screams filled his ears, covering his own until Barty started laughing again. "What type of world do you think you live in that saying that word will ever help you or anybody else?"

His eyes widened when the Death Eater sat down next to his curse-ridden body. That knife was being raised and he tried again, "The Ministry made me-"

"_They _made you do it! The Ministry? Really?" Laughter assualted his ears, making it seem as if they were bleeding. If they weren't already from the spell. "They're not smart enough to come up with such a plan. You're just a bloody coward Karkaroff. For once in your life be a man. Shut up and die."

The blade glimmered in the light and he yelled, "No!" just as it descended.

He watched as the blade came to a halt, just inches from his convulsing chest. Bartemius glared down at him through narrowed eyes somehow looking more furious than before and then he was leaning over him, moving the blade up until it hovered right above his heart that was beating harshly in his ears. "No? That's really your final word, Karkaroff?" He parted his lips but all that came out was a scream. Barty's lips twisted in mock disgust as he leaned down further to look directly into his eyes. "I know a mudblood with more backbone than you," with that the knife dove down into his chest and all Karkaroff could do was scream as his life poured out from him onto the forest floor.


	2. Chapter 1

**Frail Wings - 1**

**If the prologue didn't throw you off, here's the first chapter.**

**Disclaimer: silk owned by Stahma Tarr (aka Defiance)**

Steam rose in the air as the bubbles lying ontop of the water popped. In the next pan over something was sizzling on the stove. He hadn't cared to really look at what it was that he had thrown inside. Barty was more focused on the cutting board and the recently cleaned blade.

Setting the knife down he reached over for a glass pan to slide it under the cutting board that had little holes spaced across the wood surface. After a quick glance to make sure the water wasn't bubbling over he grabbed the package to his right, opening it he reached in ignoring the hot liquid seeping in between his fingers to grab at what was inside to set on the board. With a quick rinse of his hands he picked up the blade and cut into the organ, watching the wood turn red as the liquid splashed into the pan below.

He kept cutting until it was in small squares, using the blade to push the contents into the still sizziling pan and putting more butter in. Once he set it to a higher tempature he had to search through the cabinets before finding a popsicle mold and grabbed the glass pan moving it to another counter away from the heat of the stove. After he had filled all the molds by around two thirds he set the glass pan in the sink, letting it clean itself. Once the mold was in the freezer his attention was back on the stove.

Barty spent a few minutes picking through the muscle in the pan, cutting off bits and pieces with a thin knife until most of it was in the trash. The parts that had orginally been too tough or became stringy after being cooked anyways. What remained was thin skinny bits scattered among the cooked vegetables. Not very much of it remained. Which was fine by him since not all of it had ended in the trash. So the little experiment wasn't for nothing.

He twisted the heat off for both the pot and pan with that done, putting the food into a plastic bowl. After setting the package into a cupboard and putting a heating enchanment on it he left the kitchen, walking through a long hall of the Crouch Mansion.

Upon getting to his destination his eyes roamed the room, looking for it's occupant. With her nowhere in sight he smirked, already thinking of ways to punish her for the bad behavior. "Little lion," he called and walked in the direction of where a whimper sounded from, around the couch and a bend in the room to see the drawer had been moved away from the wall once again. He clicked his tongue in a annoyed manner, "I thought I told you to stop doing that-"

A flicker of movement from the corner of his vision made him set the bowl down quickly and turn, just catching her fist in his hand before it landed on him. His other hand wrapped around her other wrist and he quickly backed her against the drawer, careful to keep her struggling arms away from the bowl on top. "Let me go!"

"So you can try and attack me again? This may shock you, little lion, but I'm not a fool like you seem to believe me to be-"

"My name is Hermione! And I'm not your little lion!" her legs started kicking out now but with such a small distance between them it didn't have much effect so he let her continue with her kicks.

He chuckled, simply tightning his grip on her hand and wrist when she started struggling more. "That's where you're mistaken. Now why don't you explain to me, _little lion_," he made sure to put special emphasis on the word to enrage her further. It would make her punishment that much more gratifying later. "Why you keep moving the drawer when I already closed the passage? Is it going to take filling it up with rocks to make you stop trying to use it to escape from me?"

When her struggling just increased further in response to his words he pulled her forward to slam her back against the wood, smirking when she gasped, struggles ceasing as her eyes snapped shut. Evidently one of the knobs had gotten her in one of the more recent scars that decorated her back. This time the whimper that escaped her wasn't a lure, but one from a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Did you forget what this is for?" He let go of her wrist now that she was preoccupied with denying what the pain brought that wasn't normal. Reaching up he wrapped his fingers around the gold links along her neck, "Even if you do get out you can't pass the outer wall with this on. We went over this remember? There's no way to take it off," he let go of the necklace so it fell back onto her skin. "Now be a good little lion and eat your dinner."

He let go of her other hand and backed up meeting her narrowed eyes until she looked away. Barty smirked as she picked up the bowl and moved away to another corner of the room. With her out of the way now he waved his hand and the dresser pressed back up against the wall that used to be the entrance of a secret passage.

Until she found out about it that is and he was forced to block it off from her with his magic. Even though she could only go so far inside until the necklace around her neck stopped her from advancing she had retreated inside more times than he could count before it started to annoy him. He hadn't minded at first since she couldn't get out anyways and he suspected she had found it comforting, but having to crawl in after her numerous times developed into a hassle. Perhaps when she stopped moving the dresser entirely he would put it back in working condition and see how long it took for her to realize it was operational again. With the way she was acting now though that wasn't happening anytime soon.

He turned around to see her picking at the food with her fingers since he hadn't supplied any utensils. "It's not to play with, it's to eat. And don't think about trying to starve yourself again. You know what happens if you try that." The food that had previously been about to slip through her fingers was now shoved quickly into her mouth and he grinned at how fast the subtle threat had worked.

Sitting back in one of the chairs he waited for her to finish. He summoned an onyx chain into his hands, glancing over the black surface and the candles reflected on it. It was a nice effect and he brushed his thumb over the smooth glass, made more durable from a spell or else it would have snapped within the first few weeks he had brought Hermione here.

_"No!" she kept kicking at him, using the little wandless magic she had learned at the school to throw lightweight objects at him. Each one felt like a fly as he leaned over her, chain in hand. "You can't!"_

_"I can," he assured her, grabbing for one of her kicking legs and dragging her across the floor toward him. Her fists started to hit on his shoulders but he shrugged it off, reaching forward to fasten the chain into one of the links against her exposed throat, sealing it further with a silent spell._

_Her hands immediately flew up to the chain tugging at it, scraping it with her nails in her attempts to get it off. "Take it off!" she yelled, thrashing on the floor with the chain in hand. Hermione stopped suddenly, grabbing at something on the floor and he watched as she swung the part of the chain she held in her hands onto the ground before smashing at it with a metal paperweight. There was an enraged scream as she brought it down again and he caught her wrist, the item slipping through her fingers to clatter to the ground as tears rolled down her cheeks. "_Please_, you can't do this. Take it off."_

_He waited for the sobs to subside, for the tears to slow before leaning down, brushing her hair over her shoulder so he could speak directly into her ear, "Gladly." Her eyes flickered to him and he met them as he dropped the chain, curling his fingers into the hem of her robe before tearing through the fabric._

His tongue snaked out to lick at his lips as he remembered her struggles then, her screams that he made sure to misinterpret.

There was a crash from across the room and his eyes refocused to see a vase had shattered on the ground. That Hermione was against the dresser it had been on top of, staring at him with wide eyes. He smirked as he got up and walked over, kicking the bowl to the side as he passed, though he did glance down to make sure it was completely empty. That she had eaten everything inside. He chuckled, "Good, little lion." Her hands raised, wrapping around the necklace and he knew her eyes were on the chain he held now. It probably wouldn't do to tell her what - or rather who - had been in there if he wanted to get the chain on her quickly and be able to get some sleep before his Lord called him away again.

That was the only thing he didn't like about this arrangement. He had her in his house but he hardly had any time to spend here with the war starting again. Once it was over he would. If the Order stopped hiding, stopped recruiting for their cause it would go quicker. Unfortunately the fools continued to fight. Which included Moody. If that auror could see her now...

His smirk widened as he crouched down next to her, reaching out to run his fingers through knotted hair, "My little lion," his hand lowered to trace the curve of her cheek, being careful not to press against a still healing scar along the edge, "My brave little lion," his thumb ran over her lips, feeling them part, trembling as warm air slipt past.

He leaned forward quickly before she closed them again, fingers wrapping along her chin to keep her from moving her head away. Her lips were warm against his and he pushed forward, slipping his tongue through to explore for the fews seconds it took before her fists were pounding at his shoulders. His tongue retreated quickly. Even so her teeth caught a corner of his lip and he moved back ignoring the tear of skin, little droplets of blood on the corner of his mouth. Looking at her, his blood smeared along her lips, his fingers just fastening the chain on to her necklace he smirked, "My brave bloody little lion."

The corners of her eyes shined from the water there and when she blinked the tears ran down her cheeks as he stood up. Barty tugged at the chain forcing her up to her feet. He took a moment to lean forward, licking the salty tears from her skin before turning and walking out into the hall.

He could hear her footsteps following slowly and he increased his pace so she would have to speed up or risk falling to the ground and being dragged across it. They tapped quicker at the stone and he grinned, only coming to a stop when he got to his door and pushed it open, pulling her though the entranceway.

"Sit," he said, waving his hand to the pile of pillows on the ground. Her footsteps hesistated and he began to frown when she hurried forward to sit among the pillows in her tattered robes, eyes lowered. Barty smiled at her, glad she had finally done as he asked concerning that. Every other time she had screamed obscenities at him. "I have a present for you," he dropped the chain for a moment, eyes staying on her for a second before turning to retrieve the small box that had been sitting on his table for almost a week now.

When he turned back around she hadn't moved from the spot, the chain was untouched and he extended his hand to her, dropping the box onto one of the cushions. "Open it and change." Barty turned from her form to go and close the door. With a whispered spell to make sure it remained locked he walked to the other side of the room, pulling off his robe to throw over a chair. He didn't take anything else off though considering Voldemort could call him at any time and he liked to be the first one there. Some of the others would take a full minute to show up. A complete waste of his Lord's time when that minute could have been used to explain what he needed them to do.

"Barty?" He glanced over his shoulder with a smile, atleast she wasn't calling him Bartemius today. If she had he would have to be taking that present back from her now and spend some time punishing her for it. "Is this..." when his eyes lowered so did her voice. Dark blue silk wrapped around from the back of her neck to trail down her chest, the two threads about an inch and a half across ran right over the nipples of her breast down to her waist where the outfit wrapped along her waist, the bottom looking like a thong.

"Perfect fit," he flicked his wrist so the chain on the ground raised and he wrapped his fingers along it, "Get on the bed, little lion." He waited to see what she would do and when she started to stand up he tugged at the chain so she fell forward onto her hands and knees. "_Crawl_." Her head stayed lowered as she moved forward, pausing at the edge of the bed and he thought he would have to remind her when she jumped up onto the mattress to go still again. Barty walked forward, coiling the chain around his hand as he got closer before getting onto the bed, lying on his side and watching her for a moment. Just perfectly still, waiting for his next order. He smirked, patting the space infront of him, "Come here." When she laid down across from him he wrapped an arm around her waist before allowing himself to close his eyes and sleep.


	3. Chapter 2

**Frail Wings - 2**

**Yes, it's the second chapter! Hurray!**

Floorboards creaked in the night, wind was whistling through the house from a loose window one floor up. The same one that had been doing so this morning and had fought them every time they tried to fix it. There had to be five nails in that board at the very least and the wind still managed to come through. Even though the gap had been made smaller the wind howled louder, making it impossible to hear what was going on downstairs.

"Harry," Ron hissed, tugging on his friends sleeve and they made their way up a flight of stairs to find the twins' room.

It was as rugged and unkempt as the rest of the house. The whole thing still needed loads of work until it looked like a living person could live in it instead of ghosts. Unfortunately they were living in this mess right now. The house elf the place had obviously hadn't done anything to keep the place in shape. Except that one bloody portrait.

The hanging in the entrance hall with some cloth, a blanket perhaps - it was hard to tell exactly what it was, what with it covered in so much dust itself. Either way the painting didn't seem to care about any of that. It did care about them though. A woman's shrill voice would fill the whole house should that thing fall off of it. It would curse, spit, and howl at them like a wild banshee. That voice managed to get into every nook and cranny of the house when the woman hurled her insults at them.

She had to be the most bloody annoying thing he had ever heard. Though first place was currently going to that window.

"Here," Ron said, pulling up the edge of a blanket that had purposely been strewn across the end of the bed so that most of it was hanging on the floor. With the rest of the house the way it was their mother didn't have time to go around tidying their rooms like she usually did at the burrow. More often than not yelling at them to fix it themselves while she supervised to, 'make sure they didn't use any magical short cuts.' Which really just went against the point of magic in his opinion. There afterall was a reason the first spells made were mundane and still used even now.

It cut back the time it would usually take them to do it themselves without magic so they had more time for stuff like this. Opening the box in his hands it proudly stated under the lid in bold gold letter script, Weasleys' Wizard wheezes. He instantly reached for a Stongurn, fingers wrapping around the container with a gray substance filled to the brim.

"Thief."

The word cut suddenly through the air causing Ron to jump and almost lose his grip on the container. He clasped his other hand around it as well once he had gotten himself to stand still and quit wobbling on one foot. Ron whirled around to scowl at his brother who were leaning in the doorway with wide grins on their faces. Before he could get a word in Harry spoke, "Where have you two been?"

The smile on their faces only grew in answer. So causing trouble then. Hopefully with that house elf. Ron had heard how helpful they were all his life by other Purebloods with one in their household but from what he had seen he couldn't agree with them. If anything they made it worse. What was the most likely scenario was that this particular house elf was the worst out there.

As his thoughts grumbled about the behaviors of house elves he noticed a form behind the twins.

A man with dark thick hair framing his face, his facial hair not quite all over the place like the first time he saw him at the house, his house. "Sirius," Harry said, moving forward and the twins stepped into the room around Harry so that he could approach him. "Any news?"

Fred and George sat on their beds, Fred grabbing the box and setting it on top of the comforter before throwing the blanket back over it. Neither of them were leaving this room anytime soon then. They were just as anxious as him and Harry for Sirius' answer.

"She's at Crouch Manor-"

"Hermione," Ron cut in with a frown. "She has a name."

Harry gave him a look but he didn't care to apologize for interrupting. He hated that at times they would call her, 'she' instead of by her name. When they talked of her at all. Mostly it was about the Death Eaters and Voldemort. Where they were last spotted, what they were currently planning - according to the latest intel that came via Snape. No matter what he told them it was never enough it seemed.

This intel was coming too slow. That greasy git had originally been a Death Eater and Ron didn't see any reason to trust him and he knew Harry felt the same. "Where else would she have been? It was Barty that took her but no one bothered to go check Crouch Manor for her first?" The fact that just this piece of information had taken so long was getting on his last nerve. That blasted window - that was still howling even now - had stopped them from hearing any of this conversation. One that was more important in his opinion. Who knew what that creep was doing to Hermione right now?

"It wasn't possible to do recon there with so many Death Eaters coming and going, it was obviously a base of operations, not somewhere the Order could just storm in. It still isn't. Crouch Manor is like the Malfoy's place in that regard, except it's not as big and is even harder to slip into undetected because of that."

Harry perked up slightly. "It's been done then? It's possible to get in?"

Sirius looked uncomfortable at the question and Ron could feel his own small bubble of hope burst. "No. It's just a fact. Snape hasn't been in the building himself so we don't even know which room she is in. The Manor itself is said to be smaller than the Malfoy's but the dungeon is rather... extensive. Without knowing her exact location, if it even moves on a regular basis, in a routine way if it does." Sirius sighed, rubbing at his jaw. "We just don't know enough to get her out. Storming the place now would just make it more difficult later on."

That conclusion didn't help Ron's thoughts in the slightest. The summer was almost over, school would be in session again soon and it looked as if Hermione wasn't going to be with them this time. She hadn't actually been there much of last year either but at least it felt like she was there. Even if it was just a golem in her place.

A shiver ran through him at that thought. It creeped him out that something not even living could take a person's place in the world so easily. That she had been locked up in a closet and tortured for almost half of the year.

If only he could get his hands on that bastard's neck and strangle him...

"You told them, didn't you?"

He looked up sharply to see Alastor standing out in the hallway peering into the room over Sirius' shoulder. "Yes," the last sane Black conceded. "They have a right to know."

Alastor made a grunt of disapproval as he looked over the four youngsters. He still hadn't told him or Harry a word about what had happened to Hermione last school year even though he had seen everything. If what Sirius had said a couple months ago was true Moody hadn't even told Dumbledore everything. He was holding out on what had happened.

Ron had tried to get him to talk about it before but whenever he did the auror would clam up and not say a word to him for days afterward. He also developed an angry scowl on his face and would mutter things under his breath. Most sounded like threats directed at Bartemius Crouch Junior but others... sounded worried.

It had surprised him the first time he had heard one. He had never seen Alastor look so worried before, pained even. And what he had said... it had terrified Ron and Harry - who had been with him at the time - in the next room over, listening through a crack in the wall.

_"Couldn't do a damn thing. 'Won't even recognize her when I'm through with her,' he says. Bastard. Just keeps nicking at the skin and she... Hermione, I'm so sorry. Screaming, and screaming... 'Did you count how many times she screamed?' Not a single thing to make it stop. Just watch. Just bloody watch!" Something fell over with a bang and it was awhile before the heavy breaths calmed back down. "Knew I could see everything and couldn't 'lift a finger,' to help. I'll cut him into pieces when I catch him. For every single time she..." It went silent. "Please don't be dead. Don't let him play those sick games with her anymore. None of it. No, 'my little lion.' No more bleeding, no more 'sketches.'" There was a thump as he sat down. "Azkaban isn't enough of a punishment for doing _that_."_

Ever since he wasn't sure he wanted to know what_ that _was. What even half of those words spoken had meant. It was all cryptic to him, but he knew none of it had been good. Moody had sounded absolutely sickened by the end of the mutterings. As if he had been reliving the moments with every word.

Ron frowned, looking down at the floor. He didn't want to think about it right now. He just wanted her to be okay. Please be alright Hermione.


	4. Chapter 3

**Frail Wings - 3**

**I apologize in advance.**

"My little lion."

His hand waved her over in a lazy fashion; barely going over his own shoulder even though he was lying down, fingers just curling rather than raising in the air to fall back onto the black sheets. Barty's head fell back against the pillow a moment later, slitted eyes looking at her.

"Move." There was no heat to the word but her neck hurt an instant later and she fell to the floor, knees and elbows feeling as if they were wrapped in flames when they made contact with the stone. She found herself wondering for what must have been the hundredth time: how it was possible that her neck didn't snap when he tugged so harsh and sudden on the chain.

That bloody chain... Hermione could feel her eyes growing wet again and shook her head ever so slightly to get rid of the feeling. She hated it, but she didn't have the time to curse the inanimate object out right now, or the man who held it. Instead she pushed herself back up from the ground and continued until she was standing.

It only took a few footsteps to reach the bed and she practically collapsed ontop of it. The duvet was a lot more comfortable than the bunch of pillows on the floor that she had slept on prior to this. Though she preffered them and rather wished he would have her sleep there instead of next to him. Usually with his arm draped over her, right now he wasn't, and it didn't look like he was about to either.

The lids of his eyes had slid shut the moment she was on the bed. If it wasn't for the so-called necklace around her neck she would slide back off and to the ground. But because of that, because of the chain, she had to stay where she was.

Hermione crawled up the bed slowly to rest her head on the pillow, glaring at the onyx chain that glittered in the flames of the candles. If it weren't for the them she wouldn't be able to see where it was. Not just because the room would be pitch black, but because the blankets were just as dark as the chain, if not darker.

She reached up to tug lightly around the place where the chain was secured against her throat. It was cold against her skin. Just like the gold that decorated her neck in honor of her house, Gryffindor. He seemed to think it was funny, but she didn't find it amusing. That he would use her own home against her like this. To mock her.

_"A touch of freedom for one that is not free."_

That's what he had said. And then he had laughed at her. She burned at just the memory. At the reminder of her tears scorching a path down her cheeks while he collected each of them into a small vial, whispering something about virgin tears being _hot_. The chuckling that followed filled her ears now as she stared at him.

Those eyes finally not looking at her anymore, watching her every move when he could. A sick sort of brown in consistency, swirling dark like mud in the depths. It seemed to get darker in the light. The only time she could match his gaze without her gut twisting in disgust was when they first opened. It was then that they were clear; lighter, no hint of the madness that lie within, almost pleasant even. Like caramel.

Her stomach twisted hard and she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to stop even a pinch of spit from releasing beyond her lips. She closed her own eyes. What she needed was to get out of here. Find a way to get this damn thing on her neck off and get past the walls. Get back to her friends in Hogwarts.

If that calendar in the corner was correct Harry and Ron were starting their fifth year today. She should be there with them. Hermione wasn't even sure why she wasn't. She hadn't done a thing to provoke Barty back at the school. Atleast, she couldn't recall doing anything.

One day she was going to classes, to her ridiculous detention with 'Alastor Moody' for falling asleep at the library, and the next... She was bound and gagged in a closet, a stranger standing over her. A stranger cutting at her skin, drawing out some sound from her lips that she had never before made in anyone's presence, not even herself.

She crossed her legs, clentching her eyes tight to keep those particular memories at bay. Even just thinking about them, the burn it created along her flesh reminded her of what he had done. Something unnatural.

That was something she needed to fix, but Barty didn't have any books in this room or the other one he kept her in when he was away. Whatever spell that would undo it wasn't accessible to her and she couldn't go back like this. Not with her mind telling her one thing and her body telling her another.

Her eyes opened slowly, gazing at him. Probably dreaming about catching and killing her friends. Of delivering Harry to... Voldemort.

She shivered from just thinking the name, fingers curling into the sheet beneath her. Despicable. That's what he was. Along with the rest of the Death Eaters, some of which she could hear patrolling the halls day and night. One had just passed the door ten minutes ago and wouldn't be back around again for another hour.

The dying candles flickered, casting long shadows along the walls, lighting up the edge of that blasted chain once again. Her eyes settled on it. The dark smooth curves of glass that lay against the covers, coiled like a snake on top of it. Not in his hand...

She reached out to curl her fingers along the glass, both hands gripping it and slipping the edge of the leash from the open palm of his hand. Her back was pressed to the headboard in the next instant, hands placed a few feet apart as she tucked the middle under his chain and yanked up in one smooth motion. With a twist of her wrist she had the extra length of the chain wrapped around her arm and she pulled it taut against his neck.

A heady rush seemed to fill her at the feel of the chain in her hands and she glanced down. The adrenaline almost instantly drained from her veins when she saw dark eyes looking back at her. Fingers curled along the chain, pulling at it and she yanked hard on the glass trying to ignore him. The hissing sound spilling forth from his lips.

There was a tugging on her body and she leaned back against the headboard to try and dig into the wood with her back. Her breath was coming hard and fast. She could see the air infront of her barely a second later. White and cold, frost. It was wavering with each breath she took, the cloud her breath came out in changing, it was... becoming solid.

Her eyes widened when the fangs flashed in the dim light just before sinking into her shoulder, before ripping her from the headboard. She was suddenly in the air, shoulder flaring hot even though it felt like ice had pierced through her skin. Her back hit the stone and she coughed, mouth opening and closing for air but finding none and she choked for a moment on nothing, paralyzed. Then air was seeping into her lungs and she coughed again at the sudden sensation of the oxygen coming so fast.

There was a hand on her shoulder and she cried out as she was wrenched up from the ground to hit the wall next. The air was knocked out of her once again and she was coughing and gagging to have her head raised so swiftly it made her vision swim. It took a moment for her eyes to focus. To see that cloud of ice dissipating infront of her and his form beyond it. The fingers squeezed at her jaw and her heart echoed so loudly in her ears that it took her a second to make sense of what he was saying.

"-t you, know-it-all? You want to try that again you bloody mutt?" The grip on her chin tightened and she was sure the skin was already turning black and blue under his fingers. "Look at me!" She raised her eyes at the demand, gaze landing on the dark shadow on his neck. The edges were as smooth as the chain, not a speck of blood anywhere to be seen. If it weren't for the hoarse sound of his voice she would have thought she had dreamed even wrapping the glass around his throat. "At my eyes, not what you did," he snarled, tongue lashing at the side of his mouth.

She jerked back, wincing as her head throbbed when it hit the stone. His eyes narrowed even further, so thin that she thought he intended to cut her with his gaze alone. Barty let out a snarl and let go of her so she crumpled back onto the floor, gaze dropping away from him.

Her whole body felt sore from being thrown around like that and she kept her head down as she made for the pillows on the floor. She was flung back against the ground from a tug on the chain. "Where do you think you're going, little lion? You don't want to fight me anymore? Just going to crawl away like the mudblood you are?" A sharp laugh split the air. "No, you're coming with me," the words were growled right into her ear, sending an unpleasant shiver though her.

There was a pull on her chain and she walked-no, crawled after him, keeping her head down.

They didn't pass anyone in the hallway and she was thankful for that. Atleast there was no one else present to see her like this. No Death Eater and... no one from the Order. She bit down on her lip to keep the whimper in her throat.

A creak of a door made her raise her gaze further up to see where he was taking her. Dark stone with some substance dried on the walls, floor, even the ceiling. A table was in the center of the room, the candles above it lighting the moment he crossed the threshold, pulling her after him. The light only focused on the table though, Hermione couldn't see any further into the room.

She didn't recognize it but the air inside made her stomach curl and her heart was racing, attempting to crawl up her throat.

"Get on the table." Her gaze settled on the wood with similar stains on its surface. What was it? "Don't waste my time."

His words spurned her into action quickly and she raised herself from the ground to get on the wood. "Lie down." She froze at his words, looking over her shoulder at his silhouette in the dark corners of the room. The door swung shut, the sound ringing in her ears and she moved to get off the table with the realization that this was the last place she wanted to be.

Her arms suddenly burned as something coarse wove around them and she hit the surface of the table; head hanging off the edge, arms draped over the front so she could see the rope there that now kept them tied to the legs of the table, her own legs laid flat on the wood against eachother, cool metal slipping around her ankles. Her arms suddenly glowed, what looked like blue flames racing over the skin before disappearing back beneath the flesh.

"That's better, isn't it?" His voice was clear now when he spoke. "Now, what to do with you? Troublesome lion. Let's see..."

The way her heart was beating so loud in her ears she could barely hear his footsteps as he walked around her, never entering her vision. She was looking down at the stone, the dark stains covering it. Dried blood.

Something cold pressed against her back, making a crease when it pressed down and she could feel the metal sliding into her skin. It drew down quickly and she forced her lips to remain sealed, for the itching in her throat to stay there. She felt the blade again, drawing another line adjacent to the first. Her eyes had only widened at the feel though, it was painful. Just painful, nothing else came with it and the cry finally slipped past her lips.

She had wanted that feeling of warmth gone everytime he cut at her skin but not like this. Not in this situation. She tugged at the bonds on her arms, the table rocking only slightly beneath her and she bucked against it, grinding her teeth when the cut flesh on her back came in contact with each other. The blood oozing from the slits to run warm over her skin.

"Stop moving, you'll make me miss." His laughter filled the air and she increased the effort in her struggle. The wood of the table scraped along the stone, like chalk on a blackboard, only scratching at the surface but otherwise still. "Fine, keep at it if you must."

Her back suddenly flared, each cut hit in quick sucession so the blaze of flames licked at the open wounds, increasing the width. Little metal teeth digging into the skin before the whip was pulled back to hit her again within the next second. It tore a scream up her throat each time. The tightly wound leather burning her. It felt like her back was on fire. A raging heat beating at her skin, only to concentrate ever on those first cuts he had made with the knife.

When it finally stopped even her throat was burning from having yelled so loud. It hurt when she moved her jaw that kept bumping into the edge of the table as she fought for breath. Her whole body was sore and he had only hit her back. The wood of the table had chips in it though and they had dug into her legs, stomach, breasts, with each hit. It made her body warm, the blood that flowed from the scratches directly into the table, but her back... Hot, it was still burning with the blood pooling in the wounds to slip over the edge onto her skin, to run down the flesh onto the table.

There was a sickening _plop_ on the ground. The blood was running off the edge of the table to hit the stone and it made her head spin, her stomach twisting on itself as all she could smell in the air was the iron in her blood. All she could hear was it dripping after it had rolled over her skin in an agonizing slow crawl.

The table tilted and she screamed when it made her body flare up again, the friction against her bare skin too much. A hand was on the center of her back and she stilled, now hearing his casual breathing beneath her own that came so fast at times she thought she would choke on the air. Fingers were tracing one of the wounds from where it ended to the place the cut had begun. A corner of the skin was pulled up and she let out a cry when metal slipped through to be followed by thread.

He continued like that for awhile and she forced herself to remain still as the wound was closed up. She screamed whenever the needle fell into the open laceration, struggling when it dug in deep but the hand on her back kept her from moving too much.

With the first done he had moved onto the next and she bit on her lips this time to stop any sound from escaping. When the _snip_ of the scissors sounded she relaxed with the knowledge that it was over and done with. That she-

Hot breath was on her ear, a tongue licking at the helix as he whispered, "Such a delicate fallen angel. You'll stay pristine now, won't you?" His tongue dipped into the canal. "No more duress, these acts of violence of yours. Is that clear?" Teeth bit at the lobe and she felt a tear run down her cheek.

"Yes," she murmured, shivering at the feel of saliva that he left behind on her skin.

"Good, because if you do it again I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do with you, my little lion."

He moved away and she felt the ropes on her arms loosen, the constraints falling to the ground. The metal slid over her ankles and the skin thawed a few seconds later in the warm air. The heat from his hand on her back no longer present, allowing it to cool - if only slightly. The blood had dried and was sticking to her skin in clumps that cracked, flecks of it falling around her when she sat up. It reminded her of snow.

There was clang behind her but she didn't dare turn around, just watching each unique flake hit the table. "When I get back-" She almost jumped when he spoke so suddenly. "-I expect you to be in my room. Use the bathroom to clean yourself up and lie in the bed, got it?" She quickly nodded, more flakes falling around her. "Better, if you can't even find the room by the time I get back..." He laughed softly at the end of his suggestion. "We'll see, won't we Hermione?"

Her heart stopped beating, head whipping around to stare at him. His words finally sunk in and she fought to clear her throat before the snap of apparition filled the air. Before he was gone, leaving her to find that room in this maze that other Death Eaters patrolled. "No, plea-"

A whimper escaped her when the space he had once filled was empty. She hadn't even paid a second of attention to the route here. How was she suppose to get back?


End file.
